“After finishing up the last game, the team bus got lost in the underworld and ended up at a different stadium where there was... another dark elf team looking for a game.

Time to beat some drow brow bro!

We recieved and Princess Beer Git made an early break to score while the rest of the team tied up elves. Literlly tied them up. They requested it, kinky gits.

The next drive ended in a TD for the pale pretenders, despite Buster Highman's last gasp hero sack on the line.

THEN TRAGEDY STRUCK: at the start of the second half, a lone snowflake held the ball in the backfield. Fleegle Fluffmuffin, ever the oppurtunist shouted for President Merkin Muffley to throw him in range for a blitz. Muffley thought he said 'wouldn't i taste nice with chips' and bit his head off.

As blood spurted from the stump, soaking the field with sorrow and the life potential of a wasted future legend, the uncaring gary numan fans walked in another touchdown. Shameful.

The rest of the game was a blur of tears, and head coach paddy can't even remember the score. Maybe we won? It doesn't matter. Fleegle's dead. Muffley's not to blame, it was the Underworld that killed him. Gotta get outta this place.”